Agenda
by Ankhsenamun
Summary: Modern day AU. Erik Deslar is an internationally renowned designer, dominating the industry. His reputation as a heartless and cold boss has him going through assistants who cringe from his mask, until Christine Daae comes along. Evil Raoul, & always E/C
1. Chapter 1

Eric Deslar stretched in his office chair and put his hands behind his head. Yawning, he swivelled to face the empty office just visible through the glass of his door. Punching a button on his desk, he spoke curtly.

"Pam. When is my new assistant getting here? I can't manage to organise all my meetings and run this damn company!"

Pam stuttered a response, praying she wasn't about to be fired.

"I'm sorry Mr. Deslar, I did speak with the company today, and they said they were sending someone over tomorrow!"

Eric pulled his feet off his desk.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do _today_?"

He switched off the intercom, cutting the assistant's stuttering off mid-sound. He had six meetings today, back to back, and he had no idea how to get his guest list together, or where he was meant to be or when.

He flicked the intercom button again.

"Just send in someone from the office. That bloke who just retired- somewhere low in the ladder, what was his name, someone in sales… what happened to his assistant? Laid off? Alright- Pam, shut up before I fire you. Call her, and have someone pick her up in 10 minutes."

Christine Daae groaned as her mobile buzzed beside her bed. It was 10 o'clock in the morning, and she'd been rather enjoying the fact that she could sleep past 6. Rolling over, she punched the 'ignore' button on her phone. She yawned and curled into a warm ball, only to be interrupted yet again by the insistent vibrating of her phone.

"Mmmmph?"

"Christine? Christine, it's Pam."

She sat up wearily. "Pam?"

"Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, but Mr Deslar's assistant quit yesterday… again… anyway, the agency screwed up. He needs someone in today, can you do it?"

Christine peered blearily at her clock.

"I'm not working for that-"

"He'll pay you well, it's just for today, Christine, please, if I can't get someone in he's going to put my head on the block!"

A threat to Pam was sufficient to drag her out of bed.

"Ok, alright. I'm going in for today and today only. I'll be there in-"

"I'm sending a car to be there in 15 minutes. He's desperate, has all sorts of meetings and trips and can't organise his own shoelaces."

"Alright. Give the driver his schedule for me to look at in the car, and I'll organise it then, how does he take his coffee? Ok, see you in 30."

Rising from her bed, she threw her mobile where she had been laying moments before and headed to her bathroom. She stripped off her silk nightdress- one of the few luxuries she permitted herself on her previously average and now non-existent salary- and stepped under the steaming jets of water.

Washing her hair vigorously, she rinsed, conditioned quickly and soaped her body with her favourite soap. It had come as a set, body wash, lotion and perfume, and she loved the smell of roses following her all day.

Stepping quickly onto her bathmat, she saw she had managed to shower in record time, a meagre 5 minutes, she dried off and lathered herself in her lotion and hurried naked back into her bedroom.

She put on a white lace bra and matching panties, before attaching her silken stockings to her garter. The one benefit of working for Eric Deslar, she had to admit, was that corporate clothes were actually claimable as expenses- Deslar was strangely obsessed with his workers being dressed in the best. Pulling a cream pencil line skirt on, she dragged a white silk blouse out of her closet and buttoned it up while stepping into the matching heels. She grabbed the jacket which completed the set, and threw it beside her mobile on the bed, and found the cream handbag.

Running into the bathroom, she quickly dried her hair as she heard her intercom buzz from downstairs.

"Yeah, I'm going to need 10 minutes, this is impossible!"

"Alright, Christine, we'll blame it on traffic!"

Recognising the voice, she grinned. "Jacob, you're an angel."

"I try. Now hurry up."

She ran the blow drier until her hair was dry, and pulled her brown curls easily into an elegant bun- a habit easy after over a year as a personal assistant to the Sales and Marketing department of Deslar Corporation. A multi-billion dollar corporation, somehow someone as arrogant, rude and even downright nasty as Eric Deslar had managed to build a highly popular and reputable company that the rich and famous went to for everything from cosmetics and apparel to home furnishing and decoration.

She rubbed her lotion and foundation onto her pale, creamy skin, lined her eyes with black, and chose a magenta lipstick to complement the colour she wore. Finishing with smoky eye-shadow and mascara, she sprayed herself with her perfume. On her way out she grabbed a red silk scarf that matched her lipstick and tied it about her throat, put her purse and mobile into her handbag, and rushed downstairs to the driver.

"Jacob, I'm sorry, but I got about 15 minutes warning! And…"

He was looking at her very strangely. "You were worth the wait."

She smiled beguilingly, and stepped to the door he held open for her in the back of the car.

"Thankyou. Where's the devil's schedule?"

Jacob slipped into the driver's seat and handed her a file that was sitting on the passenger's seat beside him. He also handed her a cup of coffee, a croissant, a pack of chewing gum and a pack of mints.

"What did I say? Angel," she smiled, buckling herself in. As he pulled away from the curb, she bit into her pastry and opened his schedule.

By the time they reached the office 12 minutes later, she had managed not only to finish her makeshift breakfast, but make her mouth smell as though she'd just brushed, fixed her lipstick, and written an easy-to-follow plan for Deslar to follow throughout his today. It was numbered, timed, and ruled so that even a slow child could follow it.

As she stepped into the marbled hallway, Pam rushed towards her, looking harried.

"Thank god! He's starting to boil! Here's your access pass for the day, but he's asking for his coffee, and you don't-"

She cut off as a boy wearing a Starbucks uniform entered the building, looked around and made a beeline for Christine.

Christine smiled as he handed her a tall cappuccino. "Thankyou, Paulo. Add it to the account as always."

Pam looked astonished. "You have an account with Starbucks?"

She shrugged. "The people in this office drink a lot of coffee, how can you not have noticed?"

She went to the elevator, Pam at her heels. Once inside, she slipped her security pass into the notch, and hit the button for the top floor.

"Nervous?"

Christine smiled again weakly.

"You're hiding it well."

"You know, I'd worked here for over a year and I never lay eyes on that man? Hearing only bad stories… he's going to eat us alive if we let him."

"No offence, dear, but I'm staying away from him. Any not-being-eaten will be done by you."

As the elevator doors opened, Pam hurried immediately to her desk on the other side of the building, and Christine squared her shoulders for the confrontation ahead.

Glancing through the windows of the office, she saw a tall figure in a black tailored suit, reclining on an expensive leather chair. His feet were resting on the desk, and his arms were crossed over his eyes.

In that instant, before she remembered his notoriety as a bad boss, and the number of assistants he went through, her first emotion was pity- he looked tired, and worn out, and very alone.

And then the emotion was gone, and she stepped through his office door.

A/N

Thoughts everyone? Wrote this a while ago. Have a few more chapters, won't publish unless you R&R

Constructive criticism and ideas welcome, flames not so welcome.

Ankh


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Sex scene below. Not for the littlies.

Due to popular demand, which was really surprising to me (this is my first POTO fan fiction, I usually write originals), ERIC will now be spelled ERIK. I did not realise this was such a big issue, and I don't think changing a 'c' to a 'k' is really any skin off my back, or detrimental to the story.

***

Erik heard footfalls on the carpet, but didn't move.

"You're late!" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir, the traffic was terrible." The voice was young, soft and sweet. He was gradually becoming aware of a perfume filling the air, like roses, and he strangely felt himself calming.

Pulling his arms away from his face, he swung his legs off the desk and turned to face her.

"Firstly, where's my damn co-"

His first sight was a coffee cup under his nose.

"Here's your coffee… sir…"

His second sight was a shocked face

Christine had known that their enigmatic boss wore a mask, but given the stories circulating about him she had never given it much thought. Now she saw a white mask, seemingly porcelain, covering nearly the entire left side of his face.

He sighed in frustration. Here was another damn woman who was going to be too damn scared of him to do her damn job properly.

"You. What's your name?"

"Chr- Christine Daae, sir."

"Ok, Daae. I'm a busy man, and from the look on your face I'm also a scary man, so it's probably best if you don't keep me waiting, so what do you plan to-"

Christine recovered and cut him off.

"I lined out your schedule for you-" she placed it on the desk before him, not daring to place it in his hand, "so that we don't have any double ups. I'm going to call the four meetings to confirm, they're all being held within the CBD so travelling time shouldn't be an issue. I've also given us a 30 minute block on either side of each meeting so we have time for overruns, but you do have a very busy day, so I suggest that if the people you're meeting with try to run over- and looking at the names they might- you just wrap it up quick smart. Will there be anything else, sir?"

Erik had been momentarily stunned by the beauty before him, and as she efficiently reeled off what had done and planned to do to get his day in order, he sat slightly agape. His other assistants had been older, and afraid of his wrath, but this gorgeous young creature was looking at him with eyes fully recovered from the shock of his mask, and that told him she wasn't going to let him push her around.

He found his voice.

"Yes, yes, good. But you seem to have forgotten the catering, it's important these things have drinks and fruit or sandwiches or something."

"Of course, sir. Enjoy your coffee and relax for the next 30 minutes, I'll organise it so the driver will meet us for your first meeting in 40 minutes, and we'll be there for the start of your first meeting with 30 minutes to spare as planned."

With that, she turned smartly on her heel, headed into her small office and picked up the phone.

***

Erik was in a mild state of shock. His first thought centred around the marketing and sales department hiding this girl from him- a waste of a department as it is, my products market themselves on name alone, he thought scornfully.

His second was that it amazed him the little wench had dared to tell him to relax in his own office.

The third was that it was going to be extremely difficult to work with her. Already her perfume had beguiled him, lingering in the air, and reminding him of her rather perfect figure. He pinched his thigh sharply. There was no way he could work with her, without imagining running his hands up her stockings, hooking into the tops and pulling them slowly down…

But after the display she just pulled, there was no way he was going to let her go.

He stretched again, starting in shock as his pants seemed a little tighter than usual. Glancing down, he cursed his erection and made sure he wasn't visible from his little assistant's office. He did have 30 minutes to make it go away, after all.

***

Christine sat nervously beside her new boss. Although there was a seat between them, she knew that the meetings of the day had not gone well, and with so little space she was feeling a little unsafe.

The car pulled up at the office and two men were instantly at the doors, holding them open for them.

Stalking silently, he reached the elevator and waited impatiently for her to slip in the security card in the slot and take them up to his office. It was late evening, and Christine was exhausted.

Erik walked toward his office. All day he hadn't been able to concentrate because he'd been looking at that perfectly formed arse, and perfectly sized breasts, and the effort of hiding his arousal all day had caused him to be more arrogant than usual.

"Call my masseuse," he barked at her. "I want her here in 30 minutes, understood?"

Christine nodded wearily, and with a click of a button opened her predecessor's contact list. She scrolled through the list, found the number, and dialled. To her surprise, it seemed a direct line, and to her relief a woman walked through the door, escorted by security, with 10 minutes to spare. She nodded to the guard, and knocked on Erik's door.

"You, get to work."

Christine hesitated. "Will there be anything else you need before I head off, sir?"

A wicked thought ran through his mind; will there indeed?

But then the masseuse's wonderful hands started their magic and he merely grunted.

"Alright. Have a lovely evening, sir."

Another grunt.

Christine backed out. "Ok, then," she muttered mutinously to herself as she collected her things. "You're welcome."

Glancing back to his office, she felt that one piercing stab of pity pass through her, as she saw once again the lonely and vulnerable man. Then she remembered he had not said so much as thankyou all day, so it was to her relief that she handed her security pass to the guard and headed to the company car.

Erik was lost in thoughts, running his meetings through his head for the day. He would have a lot of ground to catch up on. Christine was a problem he wasn't sure how to address. Being in a state of arousal all day had done nothing for his temper, and now he found the masseuse's hands were doing nothing for either his temper or the growing ache between his thighs.

"You're done," he said raggedly, pushing her away. Not stopping to ask questions, she turned and walked out. The second he heard the lift doors slide shut, he reached almost feverishly for his belt.

Pushing down his pants and his briefs, he made sure tissues were handy before wrapping his fingers around his shaft. He shut his eyes and thrust into his hand. He bit his lip and teased himself. Visualising his assistant, he thrust harder, imagining the moment he would make her his. He would tempt her, causing her to tremble, finally surrendering and coming apart in his arms…

He groaned deep in his chest, the thought of Christine in the throes of passion was enough to push him to the edge.

"… mmm…. AH!" he cried out loudly, spasming in his hand. After a moment, he had regained enough sense to reach for the tissues beside his desk, noting as he did that he had managed not to stain his expensive Italian suit.

The little minx had caused an unprecedented reaction in him, and he was damned if he'd let it beat him. She would be his.

R& R, as always! Kudos to Zareka for first review, and thankyou MarieVance, I'm proud to be your first POTO fiction, youre very sweet! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay. Holidays are always busy- fun, but busy- and I have been in rural Victoria, Australia, visiting my parents for the past few weeks. I have nothing else to do because I can't find a job :S Hopefully will find something before uni goes back!

To those of you wondering, yes I have read the book, seen the stage show when it was in Melbourne and seen a few movie versions.

Warnings: Mild sex scenes/references.

Next chapter, enjoy!

****

Christine lowered herself into her bath with a sigh of relief. She had scented the water with lavender and rose petals, and she could feel the stresses of the day disappearing with the spirals of steam around her. Yawning, she stretched her arms behind her head and felt her eyes closing slowly, losing herself in the oblivion of sleep.

The bathroom door opened and closed again softly. She turned her eyes toward the door and her brow creased in confusion.

"Mr. Deslar?"

"Christine," he said softly, in a deep, seductive tone she had not heard before, "I've been thinking about you all day."

Her eyes gazed into his hypnotic green stare, and when he reached for her, she didn't pull away. His hand slid behind her neck and pulled her into a searing kiss. It melted slowly from her lips, until it pooled in her lower belly, giving her a dull ache. As if sensing it, his hand slipped under the water, between her thighs, and she gasped against his lips and tongue at the exquisite torment…

"I've been thinking about you all my life," he whispered, and suddenly the room was much too warm…

Christine jerked awake with a start, ignoring the water sloshing onto the bathroom floor.

Breathing quickly and heavily, she scanned the room rapidly for any sign of an intruder. The room was empty. Shakily, she raised herself from the now cool bath… how long had she been asleep?... and grabbed the towel from the rack beside her. Towelling herself quickly, she slipped on her nightdress and began making excuses.

"You're exhausted, he's the only attractive man you've seen for ages, it was just a long day in his company, you never have to see him again…"

Inexplicably, she felt a pang of loss at the words.

"Shut up and go to sleep," she scolded herself. She crawled into bed and hoped she would not have thoughts of a certain enigmatic executive.

Little did she realise, across the city, that very executive was having a hard time sleeping as well.

****

Erik arrived at work in a surprisingly good mood the next morning, and even shocked Pam by smiling at her. His pleasure was short lived, however, when he reached his office. Sitting in the assistant's office next to his was someone most definitely not Christine.

A mousy woman in her early forties, with hair shorter than his and bad taste in makeup.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Margaret Reynolds, sir, your-"

She was cut off as Erik stalked into his office and slammed the door. Hitting the button on his desk, he waited impatiently for Pam to answer.

"In here. Now," he growled, and she hastened to obey. Hurrying across the office, she shared a quick look with the oblivious new assistant, who was now peering into a mirror, and entered the office, shutting the door smartly behind her.

"Who is that creature?"

Pam sighed inwardly. "The assistant sent over by the agency, Mr. Deslar."

"She's a mouse."

"Well, she had worked for a number of top firms in the country, and they-"

"I want Daae."

Pam faltered. "D-Daae, sir?"

Erik thought he was going to explode with frustration. "Daae, Christine Daae? She was here yesterday and I want her here today!"

"But- but sir, Miss Daae does not work for us anymore, she-"

"Offer her a contract. Terms negotiable. I don't care, just get her back."

"With all due respect, Christine is a lovely girl, but she only worked with minor executives, there are others much more experienced and suitable-"

He stood menacingly. "She is the only one of you pathetic creatures to look me in the eye and tell anything to me straight out, without quivering in fear and eyeing off my mask!" he roared. As it to prove his point, Pam backed away several steps and stared at the floor.

Groaning, he lowered himself back into his seat and covered his eyes.

"Look, I will keep the mouse for today. But tomorrow morning when I get here, I expect to see Christine Daae sitting in that office, understood?"

Rather bemused, Pam nodded, and backed out of the office.

****

For the second time in two days, Christine was woken up by the buzzing of her mobile phone. "I need to get rid of that thing," she muttered, ignoring it. It rang again. She put it in a drawer, where it was silent for a moment before it rattled the contents of the drawers.

Fishing it out, she checked the number quickly.

"Pam, it's 8.10 in the morning," she said hoarsely.

The voice explained something quickly and frantically. Christine sat up.

"Say again?"

"Look Christine, I don't know what you did to the man yesterday, but today he is stomping around his office in high dudgeon because you aren't here! He wants you on _contract_, you know he never offers anyone a contract, and-"

Christine cut off the tirade. "Look, Pam, that's really flattering, but I can't. I don't want to."

"I know the man's a beast, but on a contract this is nearly a six figure position we're talking about here."

She yawned. "I really don't care about the money. I don't think I could survive being around him all day," she said, blushing at the memory of her dream last night.

"But-"

"Besides, I was hoping to move to a position that would let me use my degree."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Pam."

Hanging up, she switched the phone off and retreated under the covers.

****

Pam nervously knocked on the door of Erik's office. He looked up from his computer screen and beckoned her in.

"Well?" he asked, as she shut the door.

Bracing herself, she replied; "She said no."

"What? What did you say to her?"

Eager to keep her job, she began reiterating the conversation. "… and then I told her it would be a well paid position, but she said she-"

She broke off abruptly, realising too late the trap she had fallen into.

"What?" he said sharply, eyes narrowed. "What did she say?"

"She- she said she wanted a position where she could use her business degree," she faltered, not in the least relieved when his narrowed eyes didn't leave her face.

"And what else? And don't lie to me. You know I know when people lie to me."

"She- she-" Pam stuttered, thinking that at least she was letting Christine off the hook, "she said she didn't know how she'd handle being around you all day," she finished quickly, then braced herself for his tirade.

Instead, she heard a sound she never thought to hear, as Erik chuckled softly.

"Did she just?" he said contemplatively. Stretching his fingers behind his head, he put his feet up on his desk. "The little spitfire has a business degree, you say?"

Pam nodded mutely. A few seconds later, he smiled and drew his feet off the desk to face her.

"Ok. New offer."

****

R&R, and as always no flames.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello my lovely fans and reviewers! Next chapter up! Will update within a week if I get some lovely reviews to satisfy my ego Enjoy!

****

Christine had switched off her business mobile, but a second later her personal mobile was buzzing annoyingly beside her head. It was swiftly dealt with, landing in a pile of laundry across the room. The landline ringing noisily from the kitchenette was however much more difficult to ignore and deal with.

Stumbling toward the phone she picked it up and put it to her ear.

"Christine Daae."

"Christine, thank god, it's Pam. He's going to blow a gasket any minute!"

Inwardly, she groaned. "Pam, I said no. I don't want to be a P.A the rest of my life."

"Don't hang up! He has a new offer for you."

"A million dollars and a sweet disposition?"

Pam laughed through her nerves. "How's this for a title. Personal Assistant and Adviser to Chief Executive Officer, Executive Manager of Corporate Relations."

Silence.

"Christine?" Pam was getting a little worried at the continued silence. "Christine?"

"He- he can't be serious."

"Oh trust me, he's serious. Wait til you hear the kicker. $150,000, plus perks."

"Oh- oh my god. He- I-"

"Look, I don't know what he's thinking, please just come down here and discuss this? Before he kills someone?"

"I- Alright. No promises. Ok. I'll be there in an hour."

****

An hour later, as if on cue, Christine Daae walked into Deslar Corporation wearing a black pantsuit and heels. The security desk jumped at her approach and handed her a security pass without a word.

She walked to the elevator, hit the top floor, and held her breath.

****

Erik's intercom buzzed. "A Christine Daae to see you, Mr. Deslar."

His chest tightened.

"Show her in."

Christine walked in, bag tugged under her arm, bringing with her the soothing smell of roses. He took a deep breath and offered her his hand. She took it and shook cautiously.

"Miss Daae. Please take a seat."

She settled herself in the chair across from his desk, and cut him off before he began to speak, much to his amusement.

"I sincerely hope you are not wasting my time."

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Miss Daae."

"This morning, you wanted an assistant, and half an hour later an executive position was mentioned. I have a degree and I got good marks for it, but I am not deluded into thinking I am qualified for this position. Having said that, I will not tolerate being a glorified Personal Assistant, because I worked hard to earn that degree and I intend on working somewhere they will allow me to use it."

Erik was staring at her. Rapidly becoming uncomfortable, she shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

"Mr. Deslar?"

"My mind was elsewhere. Let me be blunt, Daae. I need you. You're the first person who's ever stepped into my office, and not trembled in fear. You have the temperament to keep me in check, and the guts to tell the corporate bloodhounds that we don't want to do business with all of them. Here's what I need you to do. I need you to sit in that lovely large office that has just opened up next to mine. I need you to organise my schedule, be my assistant and make sure I'm where I need to be, and that I have the means to get there, the proper resources… we'll keep the little mouse out there as your assistant. She can answer my phones for you or something. Now, as for the exec role, it won't conflict with your P.A duties, just give you… more scope. Instead of just taking minutes in meetings, you get to contribute. You will advise me on daily meetings, contracts and so on. You will keep tabs on all our corporate partners, and be our liaison with them. Do you think you can do that?"

She was quiet for a time, appraising him silently. Erik marvelled at how this woman could maintain eye contact, felt herself equal to him, when even his most senior partners feared his wrath.

"I'd like to see the contract."

He smiled. "I knew you would."

He hit the intercom. "Mouse. Reynolds, bring the Daae contract draft in here for me."

He sat back as Margaret bustled in, handed the contract to Christine, and returned to her desk.

He watched as Christine began to read, brow furrowed. For some reason he found it utterly adorable, and waited for her response. All he knew was, he needed this woman in his life, and if it cost him a million a year, something told him it would be worth it.

"Wait."

He raised his eyebrows.

"For the duration of employment of aforementioned employee, a company car will be issued… la la la… for the duration of employment, Deslar Corporation will provide an approved place of residence for a tax of 10% of pay, including upkeep and services… what-"

"It means we will give you a car, and it means we will provide you with a townhouse in the city, for ease of transport and getting in touch, you see."

"I'm happy with where I am now."

"You live in a tiny one bedroom apartment, hardly suited to your position. It doesn't look good for the company to have executives living in… substandard conditions."

Her eyes flashed. "There is nothing _substandard_ about my living conditions, Mr. Deslar. I worked hard to get that place. Don't you come in on your high horse and break it down to nothing!"

Oh god, he wanted to turn that fire to a better use than fury at him. A lover with that kind of passion…

"Compromise. I take the company townhouse off the contract, if you promise to move into a more suitable location, and the company supplies upkeep."

"I can 'upkeep' myself, thankyou."

He chuckled. "Believe me, Miss Daae, within a week you won't have the time."

For a moment, he thought she'd refuse again. Then she slowly nodded. "Change it to a 6 month trial contract, and we have a deal. Call me when its re-written."

She stood, shook his hand, turned on her heel and was out the door again.

****

Within 24 hours, a new contract had been drawn up to both their specifications. Christine read it carefully, twice. She looked at Erik, sitting across the desk from her, not noticing the ill disguised eagerness in his eyes. Looking back at the papers before her, she signed and initialled as marked, binding herself to the Deslar Corporation for the next 6 months.

Erik smiled.

"Welcome aboard, Miss. Daae." He shook her hand again. "We'll commence tomorrow, but for now…" he ushered someone from the door.

"Daae, this is Gregory Tate. He is the manager of City Real Estate." Seeing her confused look, he smiled, adding; "I thought you might like to look for a new place before you're swamped."

****

Thoughts?

To any reviewers who write "no offence or anything" or "don't be offended, but..." please relax. My agent says I need to have a thick skin if I want to get my novel published and face criticism etc :S So please R&R, be honest, but always constructive and no pointless flaming.

Until next time,

Ankh.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello my lovelies!

The story will be slightly delayed after this update- very slight, 2 weeks tops- while I edit the remaining chapters and flesh it out a bit.

The next chapter after this one involved a very intimate sexual encounter between Erik and Christine, but on revision I decided that it was a bit too rushed, and some more subtle teasing, meetings and tension were in order. Having said that, don't worry **m'moiselle**, there will be plenty of situations to satisfy you nonetheless (and thankyou for the lovely review).

Fear not, there will be a non-boring, longer, flirty, sexy chapter up within the fortnight!

Also, I have resolved to start replying to some of my favourite reviews in story.

**kayla w: **I'm currently in the editing stage of a sci/fi novel. Unfortunately, no Erik The novel (very basically) concerns what would really happen if science got its way, and humans reached the pinnacle of immortality. Race divisions, fear of disease and corrupt all-powerful governments.

**actress19 + phantomlvr: **Your wish is granted. The next chapter will be longer

**vanilla: **Don't worry, non-canon Raoul is due to turn up within the next few chapters!

**Vampire fortune: **You have excellent taste in cat names I am sorry I cannot update every 2 hours, but lets try to go for quality over quantity shall we?

Lets get started!

****

Unbeknownst to Christine, Erik had instructed Gregory Tate very carefully on the houses to show her. He told him to cut the price down on any house by 25 %; he fully intended to pay that 25% himself, without her knowing.

There were only three places that met his criteria. The first was a penthouse in the inner city, which Christine didn't like because it was on the 60th story. The second, a large house, felt much too extravagant.

Even she could find no objection to the third.

"A two story townhouse, ma'am. High security. 8 foot fences, intercom access to both the compound and house, remote lockable garage. Security system on house. Includes master bedroom with large ensuite bathroom, kitchen and study. Fully furnished…" Christine loved it at first sight. The first floor held a kitchen, lounge room (with a large TV), a small library (which she had dragged herself from) and a laundry room. The second, the bedroom, bathroom and study.

"I'm afraid it won't be available until next month, ma'am, but-"

"That's fine."

She was in love with the large windows and tropical inspired garden. She drove with Tate back to his offices, and signed on the dotted line.

****

The next surprise for the day was the two men waiting at her flat. One was waiting in a standard company car, the other was standing beside a silver Porsche.

"You're joking," she muttered, stepping up.

The driver beside the car handed her the keys, looked to her to be dismissed, and jumped into the company car. Christine didn't even notice. She was too busy setting up her new car for a test drive.

****

Christine arrived at work on Thursday morning at 8.15 am, ready to start. She smiled at her name on her office door, and stepped into her new world.

Her phone rang.

"Christine Daae."

"I like how you answer the phone. It gives the right impression." Despite herself she smiled. It was the head honcho himself.

"Get the mouse to answer your phones, you'll be busy enough as it is."

"Yes sir. I'll be in with your coffee and schedule in 30 minutes."

This was met with nothing more than the click of the receiver hanging up.

Erik pondered with his hands behind his head. He had managed to get himself a great businesswoman and assistant. Now what?

Thirty minutes later, as if on cue, Christine knocked on the door of Erik's office and walked in carrying his coffee and a file. Erik was sitting in his usual stance with his feet on his desk, but he sat upright as Christine entered.

Without a word, she handed him his coffee and sat across the desk from him, opening the file.

As he watched, she withdrew a sheet from it, then passed the remaining file across to him.

"Margaret sent this to me this morning," she said. "I decided that since she was going to answer my phones I'd have her keep a basic track on both our schedules, to give her something to do. Most of these meetings have been in place for a few weeks anyway. As far as I can tell, today we're going to be spending a lot of time with advertisers."

Erik groaned, and took a gulp of coffee.

Ignoring this, Christine continued scanning the schedule she had outlined for him.

"Michael Shanahan, Deanna Porter…"

"I hate that woman," Erik muttered unexpectedly.

Christine sighed. "That's not what the magazines say," she said tartly, watching in gratification as he spluttered on his coffee.

"We need to be going in about 20 minutes. I'll have Margaret organise the car for us. Unless you'd like separate cars?" Erik was looking at her, shocked.

Smiling, she stood. "No? Alright. I'll see you in 20," she said, hiding her amusement, and headed back into her office.

****

Who wants me to write a bonus chapter of Erik helping Christine move house? Just thought of it right then. Plenty of opportunity for flirting, sexual tension and even topless Erik!!!!

If anyone has a request for a scenario, feel free to suggest and I will try to work my magic... ;)

I am not a huge fan of this chapter. A bit short and boring, but hopefully enough to tide you over until I finish editing and updating.

R&R as always, and no flaming.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again everyone.

I am sorry for the longer than promised delay, but I had some personal family circumstances that required my attention. Also, I am heading back to university next week :S so I've been sorting books and timetables and that sort of thing.

As promised: Longer chapter and flirty goodness!

MarieVance: Why would Erik be out of the office? Why indeed.... read on!

SomePhantomPhanFromGR: I am planning trouble! I also like Christine with a backbone... it leads to fun clashes, and I think in Erik's position he is so sick of doormats that he needs a little fire in his life.

****

Christine was on her knees, sweating and red-faced. Before her lay dozens of boxes, some full of clothes and accumulated junk, others empty and waiting to be filled. She had just spent the last couple of hours lifting and pushing and shoving as much as she could and she was exhausted.

For someone so remarkably organised in my work life, I've left packing really late, she mused to herself. Inspecting a blue knitted scarf that she hadn't worn in 3 years, she balled in up and tried to throw it across the room, where a pile of clothes was waiting to be taken to the local charity bin. It unfurled in midair and fell pitifully a meagre four feet from her open hand.

She sat still for a moment and stared blankly at the scarf, annoyed, then dragged herself to her feet, wincing when she realised she has been kneeling on her hardwood floor for far too long, and painful shoots of pain were travelling up and down her legs and lower back.

It was Thursday night, almost a month after she had started working for Erik Deslar. She was moving on Saturday, but Erik had been keeping her so busy that she had only just got around to packing her things. He had a really annoying habit of keeping her late at the office with him, going over every little detail. Lately she had been spending more evenings sitting across a desk from Erik eating whatever he had told her to order while reading some paperwork, than worrying about little things like how she was going to fit her entire life into cardboard boxes. She was grateful that she had managed to get the evening off to finish packing, and forcing her boss to swear he could complete the paperwork on his own.

She managed to stand properly and massaged her back with her fingers. The scarf was scooped up and deposited in the correct pile. She surveyed the chaos around her with a frown. It was going to be a long couple of days.

****

Erik was jolted out of his morning ponderings by the sound of a large pile of files being dumped onto his desk, followed by the softer sound of his coffee being set down.

He scrambled to regain his equilibrium, startled into dragging his feet off his desk and he was on his feet within seconds.

Christine was smirking, her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side.

"I'm sorry sir, did I startle you?" she asked innocently.

Erik had decided he loved it when she smirked. A couple of weeks ago, he'd had a rather explicit dream involving Christine, handcuffs, and that exact smirk. Since that night, he'd decided he would do everything in his power to bring that look to her face. Unfortunately, he'd also realised that since that night, that smirk caused a prominent physical reaction to the memory of his dream, so he sat down again hurriedly.

This caused Christine's smirk to grow even wider. She thoroughly enjoyed it when she could disconcert him to the point of embarrassment. In her opinion, Erik Deslar has spent far too long up on his high horse, and it was time he was knocked back to earth. Any occasion in which she could stir him up a little and remind him that he was just another man was just fine by her.

Christine looked down at the stack of papers she had just unceremoniously dumped onto his desk. "I see you didn't manage to accomplish the simple paperwork that you promised you'd do."

Erik cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and sought to change the subject.

"You look tired," he said bluntly, noticing the bags under her eyes.

She took a sip from her own coffee and gave him a look over the rim on the cup.

"I was up late packing. I'm moving into my townhouse tomorrow."

Erik felt a welling of annoyance.

"You were up late _packing?_"

The look she was giving him hardened.

"Yes, sir. _Packing_. We don't all have a legion of terrified slaves to do our bidding, now, do we?"

Christine laid his schedule on his desk, completely missing the grin that flashed across Erik's face.

"A legion of terrified slaves? I like it. There has to be some perks to being the antichrist, no? Why did you leave it so late, I could have provided you with terrified slaves to help."

She made a _tsk _noise and straightened.

"I left it so late because I've been kept at the office every night for weeks helping you straighten out the Shanahan portfolio."

Erik felt guilty. He hadn't meant to work his fiery little angel into the ground. But he couldn't bear to let her go home at the end of the day, when the alternative for him was to go home to a large, empty house.

"Well, if that's all, sir, I really ought to finish this paperwork that you didn't get around to last night. I'll meet you at 10.30 for the meeting with Shanahan's reps."

She turned and walked to the door, giving Erik a perfect vision of her taught backside, taking that soothing smell of roses with her. He pulled himself out of his reverie just before the door closed behind her.

"Daae, wait!"

She caught the door with her fingers and came back in, looking a little annoyed.

"Did you need help packing and moving? I do have a legion of terrified slaves at my disposal," he said seriously, keeping his face completely straight.

Christine cocked her head to the side again and smiled. He'd made a joke. Perhaps he wasn't a complete lost cause after all.

She managed to wipe the smile from her face while she repeated the mantra she had developed in her head to get her through her daily work life.

_Snap out of it, Christine, _she scolded herself, _Think of the way he treats Margaret, and Pam. He's an evil, evil, bad, bad man. Ignore the fact that his smile is gorgeous and his arse- no! Evil evil bad bad man!_

Normally she would refuse help that was being forced into helping her by what would doubtless be dire threats and intimidation, but she really was starting to worry about the amount of work required to move. Somehow, she had managed to complete underestimate the amount of belongings she has acquired during her stay in her apartment. She had dozens of boxes, no-one to help her carry them down the stairs, and she had no idea how to drive the truck she had hired. A vision of ten men doing all the heavy lifting she had been dreading made her sigh in relief.

The annoyance faded and she smiled at him.

"Actually, I'd love some help. I was actually worried about how I was going to manage this on my own," she admitted.

"I very much doubt there's anything you couldn't do, on your own or not," he said softly.

Her smile widened, and Erik felt that warm feeling in his chest that he only got when he was around her.

_I'm turning into a completely lovesick puppy_, he thought.

Only when Christine cleared her throat loudly did he realise moments had passed and he'd been staring.

"Ok, so, helping you move," he said, a little loudly, "I'll schedule it then, say 8.30 tomorrow?"

"Sure. Thank you, sir."

She walked out the door, to her office, and didn't hear him whisper, "Not sir. _Erik_."

****

At about 8.30 the following morning, Christine was rushing around her apartment like a demented being. In one hand she held a hair drier, the other held a packet of candles she had found hiding behind the spare soap in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.

She'd left the door open so that the movers could just find their way in and begin lugging her boxes downstairs to where the company had parked (and very unhelpfully left) a rental truck in the street below.

Right on cue, someone banged on the open door. Frazzled, Christine just threw the objects in her hands into the nearest box, and shouted "Come in!"

Rushing back to the front door, still distracted, she continued, "Just come in and start grabbing boxes!"

"Alright... but I brought breakfast," a very masculine and amused voice replied. Christine skidded to a halt as she turned into the hall, a few meters from the door.

"Erik!"

Her boss was standing in the doorway, looking effortlessly stunning in black slacks and a button down white shirt. She was so taken aback that she couldn't stop herself staring, momentarily stunned speechless.

He grinned. He loved it when she forgot herself and called him by his first name. He held up a paper takeaway bag and a tray holding two coffees.

"I-I- I don't understand," she said confusedly, "I said I was moving today, did you need something, is something wrong?"

Erik cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled. "You said you needed help moving today. You did say 8.30, did you not?" he asked, raising the hand carrying the paper bag to check his Cartier watch.

Christine gaped. "_You're _here to help me... _move?_" she asked incredulously.

Smirking, Erik feigned innocence. "I'm sorry, was I not clear?"

"Well, I, I assumed you were going to hire labourers or something," she sputtered.

She was so cute.

"I did. But I thought you might not be finished packing, so I told them to arrive in 9.30, and thought I'd pop by earlier to bring you breakfast and help you finish packing."

"You thought you'd pop by and bring me breakfast," she repeated suspiciously.

"Indeed. Danish pastry?"

"Uh- sure, thankyou," she said, taking the proffered bag. "Actually, I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat yet this morning!" she added, turning to walk into the kitchenette.

Behind her back, Erik frowned. He has developed a strong desire to take care of her and it didn't help the situation when she did silly things that were bad for her like skipping breakfast.

He followed her through her flat and seated himself opposite her at the small round table. She offered him the remaining pastry and then smiled contentedly as she took a bite of her own breakfast. She chewed with her eyes closed in bliss, like she had never tasted anything so wonderful.

In actual fact, Erik had done very careful research into her favourite breakfast. With a trim figure like Christine's, one could hardly expect her to indulge in her favourite every day. It had taken a large amount of hassling Pam, and some cock and bull story about him needing her comfortable and happy at a settlement meeting, to find out about her fondness for Danishes.

Still watching her, he reached for his coffee, not looking what he was doing. His hand met only air. Without looking away from her happy face, he brought his hand sharply back to his body. He connected with the coffee he had just missed previously, knocking the contents back towards him, staining the front of his crisp white shirt a dark brown.

"_Merde!" _he cursed loudly, jolting Christine violently out of her Danish-induced reverie, and she leapt out of her chair. Erik stumbled to his feet, swearing under his breath and holding the wet material from his skin to stop himself being burned.

"Oh god," she said worriedly, "Uh- um, I'll get some water!"

She strode to the cupboards, only to remember that she has already packed all her glasses.

_Shit! What... Bathroom!_

She ran out to the bathroom across the hall.

Still swearing, Erik was fuming at himself. _Moron! How do you expect anyone to be attracted to such a clumsy- gah!_

Angrily, he stripped the sopping shirt from his body, bunching it up to wipe the remaining liquid from his toned chest.

_Honestly, I'm going to insist that any coffee I drink from now on be in screw top cups with-_

At that moment, there was a shriek and the sound of breaking glass.

Christine was back from the bathroom, and was staring at his naked chest. She had been bringing back a glass of water, when she has re-entered the kitchen and been greeted by the most beautiful and arousing sight she could ever remember coming across. The glass fell from her now limp fingers, shattering on the tile. Her mouth dropped open, and despite her determination to stop fantasising about him, her mind went hopelessly blank, and all she could do was stare at what was obviously an excellent specimen of a very fit man.

Erik froze, then slowly lowered the bunched shirt that was partially obscured her view. A smile slowly found its way onto his lips.

_Well, perhaps this situation has its advantages after all_.

He took a step towards her, his smile becoming seductive. The shirt dropped completely. Her eyes finally managed to rise from his chest and focused on his face.

"Christine," he said, his voice deep and melodic, and she felt it pull at her even as he took another step toward her.

****

Soooo.... scale of 1 to 10, how evil am I for leaving it right there?

Thankyou for your continued patience.

Was it long enough? Did I fulfil your cravings for flirting and topless Erik- oh. Wait. You can't ever fulfil those cravings... :D

R&R my loves!

Ankh


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, before you all hunt me down and make me write the rest of this story in one sitting on pain of being force-read a soppy Christine/Raoul story, let me present my defence.**

**I'm a student. That's my defence ****I study two degrees at once, and when semester starts, all the days meld in to one horrible, busy workload, and unfortunately writing glorious scenes involving delicious Erik get pushed to the bottom of the priority pile. But now I am in SWOTVAC and heading to exams, to be finished within the month, so… bring it on!**

**If in future I don't update for a while, be assured that I do have at least another 5 chapters already written, that just need a little tweaking, but I had to write this one before them as I decided this was too good an opportunity to miss.**

**Vampire Fortune: I think you speak for all of us in regards to topless Erik and tying him up, but if you try to steal him from me again, I'll… I'll… I'll write you into the story and have him hate you! (oooh dun dun dun).**

**Annaliviapluribelle: I hope I haven't made you weep **

**Vanilla: I am indeed evil, especially since I haven't updated in SO long. How long before they should get together, in your opinion?**

* * *

_Erik froze, then slowly lowered the bunched shirt that was partially obscured her view. A smile slowly found its way onto his lips._

_Well, perhaps this situation has its advantages after all__._

_He took a step towards her, his smile becoming seductive. The shirt dropped completely. Her eyes finally managed to rise from his chest and focused on his face._

_"Christine," he said, his voice deep and melodic, and she felt it pull at her even as he took another step toward her._

Before her was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen. Stunning. Magnificent. Flawless even. And all she could do was stand there, frozen like a mute idiot in front of the perfection in front of her.

When he dropped the shirt and stepped toward her, her knees buckled just a little. The way he said her name, so deep and musical, caused heat to rise in her cheeks. Tingling sensations shot from the constricted feeling in her chest and began to pool between her thighs, which would have caused her much chagrin had she been in any state to realise it.

Erik smirked as he played his little game. He noticed that her wide blue eyes were fixed on his carved chest, bearing an expression remarkably close to awe. Deciding to push her just a little further, he took one step closer, and said her name again, letting the syllables slide out as a sensuous melody.

Her knees buckled as he practically purred her name and took another step toward her. Her eyes shot to meet his, and the smouldering look in his eyes brought another rush on sensation.

"Ye-yes, sir?"

Erik was amused that she insisted on calling him 'sir' even when he was looking at her so seductively and standing shirtless in her kitchen. He stepped forward until he was so close he swore he could feel the heat radiating off her blushing cheeks. Teasingly, he leaned even closer, toward her face.

"I need something from you, Christine," he murmured, watching in delight as she squirmed under his gaze. She was biting her bottom lip in an uncertain yet very arousing way, and he was seriously considering dropping the façade and ravishing her on the kitchen table, at this very moment.

"Need?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Mmmm. I need…"

Standing sheer inches from her, Erik was struck by the effect of his proximity to her. God, what had he gotten himself into? He suddenly seriously doubted his ability to retain any semblance of self control. From the position he had gotten himself into, her could smell that wonderful scent of roses that he always associated with her now. He couldn't even walk past a florist any more without pausing to take a deeper breath, and subtly adjusting the unstoppable and inevitable tightening in the front of his trousers. This time, however, the fragrance was mixed with something else. Something feminine, and natural, and unmistakably arousing.

She had turned him into a schoolboy with no self control, obsessed with his first love. It didn't help that he now had a perfect view of her perfect neck, and her tilting head only gave him a perfect view down her blouse. _Schoolboy_, he chastised himself. His own arousal was starting to bother him, not in the least because it meant she had so easily frayed and broken his legendary self control. He had played with fire by starting this little game with her today, and now he had gotten himself burned.

He had to get away from her right now, or she was going to end up bent over a bench, skirt flipped up over her waist and that glorious arse exposed to his hungry view.

_So move, Erik, _he coached himself. _Move away before you do something you're going to regret. You can't make her yours in this pathetic excuse for a kitchen, she deserves silk and candles and… oh just imagine her lying on silken sheets… MY silk sheets… oh God._

He didn't move, simply took another deep, soothing breath from the nape of her neck. _Can't move away, must… damn it Erik move!_

Christine could feel his breath on her face. She felt strange. Surely this was another one of her heated dreams. Any moment now, she was going to wake up twisted in her sheets, covered in sweat and feeling desperately unfulfilled. Unconsciously, she let her view drop to his lips. They curled into a smirk, and he leaned closer, towards her face, then toward her neck, until…

"I need you to get me a new shirt, Christine."

The words were whispered so sensuously in her ear that for a moment she dropped her head back a little, feeling overwhelmed, and not hearing what he said at all. She was completely unaware that Erik was inhaling her scent from the nape of her neck. All she knew was she was experiencing a most erotic feeling and couldn't contain the small sound coming from her parted lips as his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin on her neck. She shivered at the glorious feeling, tilting her head even further.

"Daae."

Hi voice sounded normal, if slightly irritated, and… amused? Her eyes shot open.

"Did you hear me?"

She stared blankly. He was standing on the other side of the kitchen, soiled shirt in hand and looking at her with a look of innocent confusion.

"Hear… sorry, sir? Did you… shirt!"

Blushing even more deeply, she tried to regain her bearings, furious with herself. She was so far gone with her deluded fantasies about him, that she was turning everyday situations into full-blown seductions. She was so flustered she couldn't even summon her usual gusto and tell him in no uncertain terms that it was her day off, he had spilled his own coffee on himself and he could go and get his own damn shirt.

In fact, without his shirt, he'd be doing every female in the area a major favour by doing just that, walking around like the Adonis he was. Muscles flexing with his every movement, arms just build to wrap around a woman and- _No. Stop it. Bad Christine! Bad sex-deprived girl!_

Agitated as she was, she was barely able to construe a legible sentence as she babbled something about calling one of the people from the office to bring in one of his spare shirts.

She fled into another room, holding her mobile in her hand and already dialling. She cursed that she had already packed her towels and all clothes, and so was unable to take a desperately needed shower and change the panties which were uncomfortably damp. As the girl on the other end of the phone said she'd send someone to her flat with a new shirt straight away, Christine thought about how she could avoid Erik Deslar until he was clothed again and safe from her wild imaginings.

She hit the 'end call' button, and wondered to herself whether a trip to the bathroom would be sufficient to if not fix, then at least disguise the little problem she was having.

If she had bothered to look at the smug, half-naked man leaning against her kitchen counter before she ran away, she would have noticed that he was having a rather large problem himself.

* * *

Erik was almost beside himself with glee. He just knew his little spitfire wanted him and her reaction to him just now… The nibbling on her bottom lip, and then the little sound she made as he had breathed on her neck had almost been his undoing. His carefully laid plans to win her as his had been severely threatened the moment she had reacted so _wonderfully_ to the sight of his bare torso.

Confident he had emerged somewhat victorious from their little encounter, he settled himself into one of the chairs at the table and sat his shirt on his lap to hide the evidence of his excitement.

He heard the toilet flush, but it was several minutes after he heard the running water from the bathroom switch off before she re-emerged, steadfastly avoiding his gaze. He had to fight the urge to grin as he noticed the damp curls around her face. Not only had she been trying to gain enough composure to be in the same room with him, but she had clearly splashed cold water on her face to try and calm her flushing cheeks.

Clearing her throat carefully, and looking very interested in the tiles behind the counter, she settled herself safely in a chair across the table from where he was standing.

"I called the office, Jeanne is bringing you a spare shirt," she said calmly. "She should be here in the next 10 minutes or so." After an awkward moment, she moved to stand. "I need to make sure all the boxes are finished and labelled properly."

Without thinking and with a will of it own, Erik's hand shot forward and fastened itself firmly around her wrist. Christine froze halfway through her standing movement and made the very dire mistake of looking into his eyes in shock.

She swore she could feel his thumb gently stroking the inside of her wrist, and a whole new barrage of sensation shot down her arm to her chest.

From the corner of her eye, she could see his other hand slowly reaching toward her, almost hesitantly. His eyes were fixed firmly on her mouth, and seeing this she bit her lip again.

Erik wasn't quite sure what possessed him to grab her. With the direction his thoughts were taking, he couldn't help looking at her lips. When she bit down gently, he suppressed a groan and jerk as another bolt of heat shot straight to his groin.

_You got yourself into this, Deslar._

He reached his hand across the table, slowly, inching its way toward its goal.

His fingers fastened and Christine jolted in shock.

"Christine," he said again.

He brought the rest of her pastry up before her face.

"You should finish your breakfast," he said, placing the bag back before her. It was suddenly imperative in his mind that his little spitfire be well fed and taking care of herself, and skipping breakfast just wouldn't do.

He stood. "I'll check the boxes."

Christine could only watch, mouth agape, as he released her wrist and sauntered out of the kitchenette and towards her boxes.

Automatically, she raised her breakfast to her lips and took a bite, her disconcertion and shock fading as the tastes swept over her tongue. The man may be the devil and sex personified, but he had fantastic taste in Danishes.

* * *

**Erik is a tease, and he absolutely loves it. I have a strange feeling that's going to come back and bite him ;) I think he relishes the challenge to throw Christine off-balance. However will she make him pay for it?**

**Thoughts? Suggestions?**

**Reviews will make me update faster. Especially given that exams are depressing and I need lots of love and kudos.**

**I'm almost at 100 reviews, how exciting!**

**Love, Ankh**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again, at last! **

**No excuses, other that work and university both having gotten in the way of writing.**

**Firstly though, at the start of this chapter, I must give a loud shout-out to the lovely and very talented **_**PhantomMalevolence**_**, whose wonderful story "**_**Judging by the Cover**_**" inspired me to make the time to write another chapter. I was very flattered that you consider me a favourite.**

* * *

Erik was bored. This in itself was an undesirous situation that must be rectified immediately and at all costs, however it was also extremely dangerous for all those around him. For when Erik was bored, there were consequences.

Prior to Christine's arrival in his life, boredom usually resulted in a very foul mood, and shouting, firing of random staff and generally the office becoming a greatly unpleasant place to be until the mood passed and Erik had found something to occupy or entertain himself.

Now that Erik has his little brunette spitfire to entertain him, however, boredom instead resulted in a mischievous mood that he was becoming rather fond of. He enjoyed the challenge of baiting her, watching her struggle to maintain a professional attitude and some semblance of protocol as he deliberately acted more and more difficult and childish, until at last she could take it no longer and unleashed a diatribe the likes of which he had received from no other.

And God help him, it aroused him.

He has always known that he was a sick, sick man. To be cursed with such a face was yet further proof of this fact. But even he had to admit, that to be so turned on by a woman yelling at him that he could not move from behind the visual barrier of his desk for the next half hour hardly spoke to the positive attributes of his character.

When she was angry with him, she came closer than at any other time. She was usually very sure to keep a certain physical distance between them- especially since that little episode when she moved out of her flat- but when she had enough of him she would step as close as possible. If he was lucky enough to be seated at the time, she would put both hands on either side of him on his arm rests, lean all the way in and give him a piece of her mind while he happily inhaled her lovely rose scent, resisted the temptation to sneak a peak at her eye-level cleavage, and imagined whether this passion of hers translated into the bedroom.

Christine knew full well that he was baiting her deliberately. She could swear that beneath that perfect exterior that exuded maleness and all that made her weak at the knees, Erik Deslar was nothing more than a child holding up a magnifying glass to the ant's nest that was his corporation and employees. The amused glint in his eye, the small quirk of his lip that he tried so desperately to hide as she finally snapped. The exaggerated way in which he leaned over his steepled fingers and acted as though he were giving her his full, serious, professional attention all while she was shouting like a teenager being grounded. These were things that everyone else missed- and in fact, made no effort to look for- but she was not everyone else. She was Christine Daae, and she was beginning to know and learn him very, very well.

She may have initially thought her boss was simply evil and honestly believed that there was no reason to apologise publically when his latest violent and public rant against Deanna Porter was published in the tabloids, because what he said was true (if not politically correct or suitable for company), that his company shouldn't pay tax because letting people enjoy and present the image of wealth and luxury was a public service, so he should be granted charity status, and that the mothers of the office did not deserve paid maternity leave "because they can pop them out over annual leave and then leave the brat with a nanny, can't they?" But that was before she learned his quirks and ticks, and one of said ticks was a desire to stir up mischief simply because he was entertained by the reactions of those around him.

As Christine arrived for work, she was practically skipping. She was in such a wonderful mood, in fact, that she was determined that no matter what strange or even foul mood her sin-on-a-stick boss was in today, she was not going to let it ruin her giddy state. Previous experience had taught her that unlike normal people who hated Monday's, Erik suffered from a strange and incurable form of Friday-itis most likely to present itself as inability to focus on any given task, a desire to cause trouble, and set a new record in the time it took him to reduce Christine to fiery temper.

In all honesty, Erik was aware that Friday's were not his best day, and he explained it to himself in very simple terms: the weekend was the longest period of time during which he could not see his Christine, and try as he might he could not help but try to get enough of a rise out of her to tide him over the next few Christine-free days.

But today of all days, she was not going to let him get to her.

* * *

Christine waltzed into Erik's office at exactly 4:51 that afternoon, after having carefully avoided his every effort to antagonise her all day. She settled his final coffee and a couple of pieces of paperwork in front of him and waited patiently. He was settled in his chair, facing the window and ignoring her entry- always an ominous sign.

"The Shanahan contracts, sir," she practically chirped in an overly bright voice, and he grinned widely before schooling his expression back into his cool mask of careless antagonism. Clearly, his beloved opponent wanted to play after all.

He spun his chair to grab his coffee, fully prepared to simply pick it up, make a derogatory remark about the new workplace laws that had just come in to effect (essentially preventing him from abusing his staff as stress relief in future) and then turn his back on her again, knowing that his refusal to properly acknowledge her was one of the fastest possible ways to get her back up.

He only made it half-way.

His practised grab missed the coffee completely, causing him to spin around a little too far in his chair. This didn't matter so much considering he had used to both hands to grab the desk to hold himself facing her, jaw dropped in an uncharacteristic gape and his plan for dominance completely forgotten.

For a moment he just stared at the vision before him, unaware of the triumphant smirk on Christine's face.

"Christine," he breathed.

She wished he wouldn't say her name like that. That kind of sinful, reverent voice should be reserved for the bedroom. Only when they were both completely naked, and he was slowly kissing his way down her stomach, and her thighs, should he whisper her name like that…

Inadvertently she took a step toward him, and then flushed deeply and resumed her smirk with an effort. She was not going to let him distract her today by misconstruing his reaction at her change into some more… _atypical…_ office attire as anything other than shock at her disregard for company policy.

"Sir, I hope you don't mind that I changed a little early," she began by way of explanation, "but I'm afraid that I have plans that begin almost immediately after work and I didn't want to disappoint my date by delaying him, so-"

He didn't say anything. He was too busy still staring.

His constant staring was making her a little uncomfortable. She had only meant to startle him enough to win their little battle of wills for a change, not completely shock him into a stupor but his reaction to her complete disregard for his policy for on-site office attire.

Worried now, and oblivious to his true reaction, she began talking a little too quickly in an effort to distract him from the position-threatening lecture she was sure he was on the verge of delivering.

Erik's mind was only filtering in some of Christine's rather panicked babble.

"…he asked me… never been to an event like this, so… the opening of the _Le Chateau _is so..."

When he still continued to do nothing but stare, she decided to cut her losses, count this one as a win and flee the office before he snapped out of it. This decision ended her panic, and the calm smirk reappeared.

"Well, have a good weekend, sir," she said, backing away, hands innocently twisting behind her back.

When no response was forthcoming, she turned swiftly on her pride-and joy Jimmy Choo heels and disappeared in a dream-like swirl of blue silk and perfect, shining chocolate curls.

* * *

Erik managed to swiftly return to reality once the source of his stupefied reverie helpfully removed herself. He felt foolish for allowing her to render him completely mute and unable to function by simply appearing in a perfect, fitted cocktail dress.

_Don't forget that glorious hair_, he mind prompted, and he allowed himself the fantasy of wondering what it would be like to run his fingers gently through her hair in the afterglow of their lovemaking, as he twirled a curl around his hand and let the other palm rest possessively on her thigh…

He picked up the coffee she had left on his desk and took a sip as he tried to decide whether to take care of the little problem that he was now presented with, or to wait until he was at home were he could indulge in a little more comfort.

He replayed their admittedly one-sided conversation over in his mind as he thought his options over. Suddenly, his fists clenched violently. The coffee cup imploded, sending hot liquid flying everywhere, but he didn't even notice when his shirt and trousers were drenched with near scalding coffee and doubtlessly stained beyond saving.

One word kept playing itself in his mind, over, and over, and over again…

Date. She had said _date._

His arousal fled him faster than she had herself, and his momentary panic was left in the wake of pure determination as he contemplated his next move.

Because he would be damned before he let some ridiculous poppycock take HIS Christine away from him.

_He _would be the one the take her to grand openings. _He_ would be the one to cloth her in silk cocktail dresses and designer shoes, and _he _was going to be the one to make her completely his.

* * *

**No sexy fun times yet, folks, I think it's still a little too soon, and I am interested to see how my plot develops with a jealous, sneaky Erik, instead of 'I will win, I always do' Erik.**

**Was it worth the wait? I'm feeling my muse back, so you won't have to wait too long for another update, depending on reviews and reception etc.**

**Love,**

**Ankh.**


	9. Chapter 9

For once in his life, Erik blended in. If he wasn't so thoroughly engaged in being jealous and furious at a certain schmuck with a certain brunette, he'd admit that he was thoroughly enjoying playing a little game of espionage.

The opening of _La Chateau _was, most conveniently for the Machiavellian designer, a masquerade event. As he sauntered around carrying a scotch on the rocks he revelled in the opportunity for his mask to make him just like everyone else, instead of ostracising him on sight.

Currently, his attention was focused on a circle of men who had been ensnared by Christine's charm. He really couldn't blame them for their attention to her- he himself had fallen victim to her unintentional allure more than once. No, he couldn't blame them- but he could blame the ridiculous fob with his arm resting possessively on the curve of her waist, with a smug grin over his boyish feature.

As he watched, his anger grew as the fingers began to stroke her through her dress, and suddenly turned to satisfaction as the easy smile slipped from Christine's features. In what was undoubtedly a well-practiced move, she slipped innocently from his grasp under the pretence of taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter.

The smug look faltered as Christine remained on the other side of the circle and immediately engaged an older gentleman in what seemed to be an enthralling conversation. Erik let himself relax a little, recognising her new companion as a business associate who'd rather be caught dead than engage in infidelity.

He grinned. It seemed Christine was not as enamoured with her date as he had undoubtedly hoped.

Well then. Time to get rid of him.

* * *

Christine tried to hide her look of disgust when she felt Simon's fingers start caressing her. She had been so thrilled to be invited to this event that she hadn't really considered who she'd have to be spending it with.

She had hoped that he may have just given a bad first impression- she thought he must have some redeemable attributes if he'd become an executive in one of the top firms that invested in Erik Deslar's corporation. However her hope soon grew to despair as she realised he was riding on his father's coat-tails and about to step into his inheritance, as he helpfully kept reminding her. Over, and over again.

The second he touched her she stiffened, and spun out of his reach. Smiling innocently, she took a glass of wine and had the grace to look surprised when she was commandeered by Martin Symes. When Christine had entered the reception hall that evening, Symes had taken one look at her, another at the man on her arm, and immediately decided her honour was his responsibility and made it his business to rescue her from Simon at every available opportunity.

Looking miffed, Simon seemed to decide Christine was playing hard to get. If she wasn't so damned beautiful it wouldn't be worth the effort to get her in to bed. By now every woman he had ever taken out had decided that she was going to be the next Simon Chamberlain-Crawford. All it took was a name drop here, a compliment there, and opening his wallet, and they were all on their back with legs spread wider than a gymnastic prostitute. Except for Christine bloody Daae, who seemed to have forgotten what a huge honour it was for him to have chosen her- a lowly assistant with no social ties- to an event such as this. Excusing himself, and trying to ignore how pleased Symes seemed with himself, he peered around the room in search of a more certain conquest.

Across the room, Erik smirked to himself as his prey left the safety of the pack.

* * *

Still feeling a little put-out, Simon let the pretty blonde bartender soothe his ego. He knew the signs, he could see it in her eyes; after years in college she was doubtless tired of being poor, and had come to recognise the signs of salvation in a thick wallet and a charming smile. She'd obviously not been around long enough to realise that her kind were nothing more than a momentary distraction to his ilk; she'd be lucky to get a few weeks in his bed, a few cheap trinkets and a taste of a life she could never have. But she was just his type; pretty, eager and oh-so stupid.

Opening his wallet to pay for his drink, he deliberately pulled out a few too-large notes before finding the correct change. He watched in satisfaction as the bartender's eyes widened, and then, as he predicted, she smiled at him and leaned forward a little too far to take the change to give him a perfect view of her cleavage. The game was on.

"Chamberlain, isn't it?" a dark voice asked casually.

"Chamberlain-Crawford," he responded stiffly.

He didn't turn to face the stranger. The view across the bar was becoming more obvious by the minute, and he could use a quick fuck in the coat-room after the stress he'd had to endure this evening. Then he could come back refreshed and finally get the stupid Daae girl on her knees by night's end.

"Right, Chamberlain-Crawford," his companion drawled. "You do business with Deslar Corporation, I've heard?"

"Look buddy, I'm not here to talk business," he said coldly. "I've got other things on my mind this evening."

Erik looked at the blonde. "Clearly," he replied, disapproval dripping from the word. He settled himself on the barstool beside his quarry.

"I said, I'm not here to-"

"Erik Deslar." Erik stuck out his hand, and watched the colour drain from Simon's face as he realised his error.

_Fuck. _"Mr. Deslar! I didn't-"

"I've done business with your father, but he's not brought you along. Why is that, I wonder?"

"He needs someone he can trust to keep things running while he's on business trips," he fluffed proudly.

"Hmmm," Erik made a non-committal sound. "Or perhaps he knows you're an utter embarrassment and it's better to keep you hidden?"

Simon's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

"You've not had dealings with me, but it seems you've met my business partner," he continued, swirling his drink idly.

"Your business partner?" he sputtered.

"Christine Daae. She's my corporate relations manager."

_Double fuck. Daae worked for _this_ lunatic? _

"You see, I don't play nicely with other people," Erik continued. "Miss. Daae on the other hand could charm a beggar out of his last penny. So she smiles and beguiles and makes people forget that I'm a sadistic bastard who doesn't like it when other men try to play with his things."

Simon had realised that he was in way over his head.

"Are you trying to make a point, Deslar?" he sputtered, trying desperately to regain his footing.

"All sorts of business contracts and dealings can be destroyed when decisions get made with pleasure in mind, can't they?" he sighed with mock regret, but the threat radiated loud and clear.

Without waiting for a response, he finished the last of his drink and rose to leave.

"If you're already fucking her, why didn't _you_ just bring her to this damn thing?" Simon said bitterly.

Erik stopped in his tracks and turned slowly on his heel.

"Ah," Simon said gleefully. "You couldn't pry open the frigid cow either."

Erik walked back to the bar, purpose radiating from every step. He watched the stupid boy cower as he realised his mistake. Relishing his fear for a moment, he turned his attention back to the gawking bartender.

"I will give you $2000 to _not_ go home with this man tonight. I will give the doorman another $2000 that he is to give you when he sees this man leave tonight _alone_."

It took her all of two seconds to glance between them, and grin a little hesitantly.

"Sounds like a pretty good deal," she said shakily, still looking between the deadly serious look on one face, and the disbelief on the other.

Shoving the bills into her hand, Erik didn't spare Simon another glance as he made his way back across the floor, seeking out his little spitfire.

* * *

Christine had seen Simon disappear with a mixture of relief and guilt. While the man was a slime ball and a sleaze in the 10th degree, he had after all invited her to this event and she couldn't help feeling she ought to have played along a little.

"Well done girl, he's gone at last!" Symes practically boomed. She couldn't help smiling a little.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied demurely, struggling to keep up a façade.

"Nonsense, nonsense," Symes waved off her denial. "Why you are accompanying a man like him is beyond me. You're clearly a nice girl, and he's clearly a good-for-nothing rogue looking to sow his wild oats"

It was too much. The hidden smile burst from her lips in a peal of laughter. After a moment, she calmed down enough to speak.

"I thought I was going to have to slap him and tell him to keep his hands to himself!"

More laughter from the group. Symes patted her arm in a sympathetic, fatherly way.

"You poor girl. Fear not. If he comes near you again, I will promise the rascal to a duel." He said the words in a deadly serious tone, yet the twinkle in his eye betrayed the older man's sense of humour.

After a moment, when the laughter had faded again, his expression turned serious.

"Why _are_ you accompanying that rapscallion, Miss. Daae?"

Smirking at his use of language yet again, she stirred the olive in her drink before replying.

"I'm ashamed to say I was smitten by the event… there is no way I could've attended had he not asked me, so…"

"You know, if you wanted to come so badly, you could've just asked me, Christine," a baritone voice said behind her.

Her thighs clenched together automatically and she almost dropped her drink as she whirled to face him.

_Oh dear god, that _voice!

"Er- Mr. Deslar!" she managed to squeak out.

"Deslar! Good to see you out and about!" Symes said jovially, thrusting out his hand. Erik shook it easily enough, but didn't take his eyes of Christine's steadily rising blush.

"So, Christine? Why didn't you ask?" he asked again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Christine rose to the challenge.

"Well, I know you think everybody is hopeless, sir, but I figured I could get in the door without a pity date from my boss," she said lightly.

The rest of the group had drifted away with a little shepherding from Symes, who was looking very speculatively between the two of them.

"A pity date? What, pray tell, is a pity date?" he asked bemusedly.

"You know. Desperate girl, man who owes a favour, uncomfortable evening had by all."

Erik's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Is that what you are, Christine? Desperate? For what, pray tell?"

_For you, you arrogant ass!_

"I didn't resort to a pity date, so I'm not desperate for anything," she replied. Steeling her nerves with another sip of drink, she eyed him curiously.

"Sir," she began.

"Erik," he interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"This is hardly a work situation. I think you should call me by name outside of work, don't you?"

Christine frowned at him. "I suppose…"

Erik put on his most innocent smile. "You were saying?"

_Say it. Say my name. Say it, say it, say it…_

"I received your invitation for this event ages ago, and you told me to send your apologies," she replied, much to his chagrin.

"Perhaps you misunderstood, and I meant to send my apologies for attending and scaring everyone?"

Christine snorted. "Oh please, you give yourself far too much credit."

"You don't find me terrifying?" he said softly, noticing her throat work as she swallowed nervously.

"Of course not. I couldn't work for you otherwise. You're an arrogant misogynist, but hardly terrifying," she said boldly.

"Really." He took a step closer, until they almost touched.

Startled, she met his eyes. "If you're not frightened, why are you trembling like that?" he asked softly.

Readying her denial, she froze when he leaned in until she could feel his breath on her neck and a single finger caressed the feathers on her mask.

"Your mask in beautiful," he murmured.

_Why does he always have to come in so close, _she though frantically.

Certain she was about to blow her cover, she practically threw her empty glass at a passing waiter and tried to step back.

His hand snapped around her wrist and pulled her up against him before she could move an inch.

"Christine," he said again in that damn way he had of making her melt, and she suddenly felt it would've been just fine to beg him to take her against the nearest wall.

Erik heard her catch her breath, and moved very deliberately so she could feel his reaction to her. She made another of her delightful little noises, and he could almost hear her convince herself she'd only felt his phone.

"Come with me, Christine. It's time," he continued seductively. She met his eyes again, almost hypnotised.

"Time?" she choked out.

His hand slid from her wrist to hand, and he began to lead her to the dance floor.

"It's time for the final dance of the evening," he said, voice suddenly neutral, and as he pulled her into a waltz she wished the floor would open up and swallow her for her horny stupidity.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ta da! I know, I know. Two chapters that aren't months and months apart- I'm shocked too. A huge shout out to everyone who took the time to review, especially PhantomMalevolance because I know how happy it makes you J and also to HeartsBroken for taking the time to PM me. To certain guest reviewers who were worried they'd offended me with their comments, stress not- no offence was taken (I deserve a bit of heat for being so slack and unreliable) and I've removed your comments for you. If you want to repost them feel free, and I won't moderate them again unless you ask me to.**

* * *

It just had to be a bloody tango.

Christine knew she was flushed bright red, but even her embarrassment couldn't shake her keen awareness of Erik's hand on her hip.

She knew it wouldn't have mattered if she'd known the dance or not- Erik clearly knew what he was doing, and like all things in his life he had taken firm control and was leading with a skill she hadn't suspected.

His hand was resting a little lower than necessary, and she could swear she could feel him tracing little circles through the fabric. She didn't know how he managed to keep looking so cool and collected when she felt she was going to catch fire at any moment. All she could concentrate on was moving her feet, and even that was becoming too much of an effort with his fingertips shooting sparks from her hip straight between her legs.

Erik was saying something.

"Uh- wha- sorry, sir?"

He grinned at her. Even now she insisted on honorifics.

"I said, you need to stand closer for this dance," he repeated, and without another moment's warning her tightened his grip and pulled her hard against him.

His pelvis was pushing against her lower stomach, and his thigh was nestled against the juncture of her thighs.

She glanced up in shock, but his expression was unreadable. His gaze was focused very intently on her, and when he was certain he had her full intention, he firmly and very deliberately shifted his leg against her.

It was fortunate that a moment later he leaned her into her a dip and held almost her full weight in his arms, because her legs sure as hell weren't going to support her.

Erik smirked to himself in satisfaction as he sensed her legs go out from under her. As he held her in the dip for a moment, he felt her fingers tighten on his shoulder, but he could still feel her trembling as she clung for dear life.

He wondered vaguely if it would be possible to make her orgasm on the dance floor without anybody being the wiser.

He could feel the gaze of the stupid whelp who'd brought her in the first place trying burning a hole in his back with his glare, and for a moment he was tempted to make her come apart in his arms just to show the little shit how real men seduce women.

But then he looked back at the women in his arms, trembling and biting her lip and meeting his gaze with a dazed expression holding desire, uncertainty and hesitation but not a single trace of fear, and he knew that he wouldn't do it.

His Christine, his spitfire, his fiery little angel was not to be used for anything so base, let alone something involving the fool gazing daggers at them.

He wasn't going to use her like he had so many women in the past, just to leave them before they saw behind his mask and left him.

He wasn't going to waste the first time he brought her to climax on standing up a mere boy.

So he pulled her against him again, and relished the feel of her in his arms, and ignored everyone around them.

Using all his skills to keep her desire dancing on a knife edge, he rubbed and stroked oh so subtly, so innocent, stoking her fire until he heard her whimper.

The first time he made her come, she wouldn't be on a dance floor, and certainly not in public. Because their first time was hardly going to sate him, and he was going to need somewhere very private so they could pleasure each other again, and again, and again…

Christine gasped as something very _very_ hard rubbed her in all the right places.

_Oh please god let that be his cell phone, _she though desperately.

She'd never been much of an exhibitionist, but right now she was sorely tempted to wrap one leg around his waist and-

_Stop it! _

If the heat from her arousal didn't kill her, her embarrassment was going to. She was practically getting herself off in public by rubbing against her _boss_ of all people.

Daring another glance at him, she noticed her was still focused on her, but to relief he didn't seem disgusted, or angry, or any other emotion for that matter.

He was showing attention to his partner as the dance called for, and nothing more. The knowledge that this was not affecting him as it was here damped the heat enough for her to pull herself back from the brink.

A spattering of applause broke her out of her flustered reverie.

Erik held onto her for a few seconds longer than necessary, purely to be certain that her legs could support her own weight- or so he told himself.

Carefully letting her go, he cocked his head at her appraisingly.

"You dance beautifully," he commented nonchalantly.

Christine cleared her throat hurriedly.

"Thankyou, sir," she said, suddenly all business. "My flatmate in early college was a ballet dancer. She liked to incorporate other dance forms into her practice."

Erik chuckled. "And you were dragged along with her to new classes, I suppose?"

She shrugged. "At first, I suppose, but then I realised there's nothing like having a bit of fire and passion in your life."

At once she froze and flushed again.

For a moment Erik had to grit his teeth against the sudden urge to throw her over his shoulder and take her to the nearest private location. It didn't take long for his mind to start ticking over again, and that familiar smirk crept back over his features.

Automatically Christine braced herself.

"What do you do for 'fire and passion' these days?" he asked softly.

Everyone was else was wandering off the floor, either to the bar or out the entrance.

"Well- I- I don't really have time for dance or anything these days, do I?" she said briskly. "I happen to be employed by a notoriously time-consuming tyrant."

_Time to play_, Eric thought happily. Coming to this event was beyond worth it; the dance and this little back and forth were going to be enough to sustain him for the entire weekend, and then some.

He leaned in close until she met his gaze with startled eyes.

"Well then," he said.

He was so very close. She really ought to talk to him about personal space, and the appropriateness of using a bedroom voice outside of the bedroom. In public. To an employee. Perhaps it was a French thing.

His breath ghosted over her neck, and she fought to hide her shudder of delight.

"This tyrant is going to have to make an effort to incorporate some passion into your days. It would be such a dreadful waste if a woman such as you were unable to relieve some of the tension that I'm sure has been building because of me. It must surely be killing you by now."

_If only you knew,_ she thought sardonically.

"Don't worry yourself sir, I know the solution," she managed, patting herself on the back for sounding so confident.

"Oh?"

She leaned in toward him as he was to her.

"If one man is the source of the tension, another must surely be the cure."

The grin was wiped from his face in an instant.

_Check and mate_, she thought proudly, but it was short lived.

"I don't know," he said doubtfully. "It would be a shame if another man had to unravel all that frustration. It only seems fair that I be the cause and cure, yes?"

She had no idea how he managed to turn the tables every single time.

"You won't regret it," he continued seductively, and she snapped to attention as he leaned toward her.

_Is he going to-_ she though frantically, wondering how she'd react when his lips met hers, but she was left clutching the shreds of her pride when he leaned past her lips and spoke directly in her ear.

"I'm an excellent dance teacher. There's no reason I can't help you _release_ some of that agitation. Off work hours, of course."

Christine mustered every ounce of strength she had left.

"Spend my work hours _and _my free time with you? Are you insane?"

He smirked again. She fought the urge to find something sharp and poke him where it would hurt.

"You look flushed," he commented. "You've probably had too much wine, and I notice that whelp you came here with has abandoned you. You'd best come with me."

Taking pity on her dazed state, he took her arm and led her out to his waiting limousine.

* * *

He watched her walk in to the party with one man at the start of the evening. Hours later he saw her leave with another, looking distinctly flushed and a little dazed.

At one point during his vigil his impatience got the best of him, but the doorman had taken one look at him and hadn't even bothered asking to see his ticket, sending him on his way with devastating courtesy. So he sat back in his car, slid the window down a crack and smoked his way through half a packet of cigarettes in an effort to kill his rising agitation.

He didn't know what she was playing at. He didn't know who the men were, or why she left with a different one, or why she had taken such effort to look nice for them.

One thing with clear: Christine had some explaining to do. So when he saw second man supporting her as they left the venue and helped her into a limousine, he flicked the cigarette butt out the window and followed them.

* * *

**Dun dun dunnn. Guess who?**

**I think I need a beta, do you think I need a beta? I tend to just write and write and write and then I can't be bothered to proof properly.**

**The dance scene was inspired a little bit by a scene in the latest Pride and Prejudice, when Elizabeth and Darcy are dancing at a ball and everyone else ceases to exist for them. I felt that at this point Christine is so hyper aware of Erik and his deliciousness that the room could have caught fire and she would still be more aware of his touch. Erik on the other hand is calculating every move and on the lookout for every rival or threat, and hasn't lost his composure… yet.**

**So, guess what your Christmas present is going to be? Don't you think 10 chapters of unbearable sexual tension is enough foreplay?**

**Please R&R!**

**Ankh xoxo**


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